


Can that boy foxtrot

by Petra



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-13
Updated: 2010-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-10 02:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the perqs of being an old lady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can that boy foxtrot

**Author's Note:**

> For Month of June &amp; Kink Bingo (prostitution). Beta read by [](http://sage.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**sage**](http://sage.dreamwidth.org/).

  
June loves to dance and always has, though the way the kids are doing it these days is a different sort of dance than she's used to. One of the perqs of being an old lady, though, is that no one expects her to conform to the novelties. She can take her beaus out for the same kind of turn around the dancefloor that she used to. Maybe it's someone different singing the words, not the old friends who she can still hear in her head, but it's close enough if she closes her eyes, trusting the gentleman holding her to guide her just right.

Once upon a time, she had her Byron--and any number of other young men for a spin when she needed them. Now there are a few fellows who want to catch her eye, but they're few and far between. She's sure Neal knows how lucky he is that she let him draw her in and that she drew him in. He makes an effective buffer against the younger widowers with a gleam in their eyes who give her a look that says they've never heard of pre-nuptial agreements.

Her standards are higher than that, and dear Neal is an excellent demonstration of that. Whoever taught him this dance did it well, with unsparing critique of form and posture until he learned to make himself exactly what people want to see. He's an impeccable companion for a night in a ballroom.

And then there's the way he moves.

The music comes to an end, and June says, "Enough, for now," and smiles at him.

He grins back, as she knew he would. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Not just now." She holds onto his arm as they walk back to their table and smiles at a few friends.

Konstantin Rausch walks by with a girl younger than Neal on his arm. She's young enough to be his granddaughter, and why not; he's earned it. The only distasteful note is the rock on the woman's finger, which looks like she pulled one of the ice cubes out of her drink and stuck it into a setting.

June gives Konstantin a cooler smile than she otherwise might. "Ah, young love," she says, and he chuckles obligingly.

"Maybe it is."

"That man's halitosis could kill a rhinoceros," June says, keeping her voice low, though Neal laughs loudly enough to turn heads.

He does everything enough to turn heads, so that's all right.

"You don't think so, then?"

"It's unlikely."

Neal lets her arm go when they reach the table and pulls out her chair for her. It's another step in the dance, and not one she's missed. "I've heard that love is blind, but never that it has no sense of smell," he agrees as he pushes it in.

Comments like that one are what pay his rent, as surely as Konstantin's pretty thing pays hers in lewder ways. June has needs, but there are lines she won't cross, even though she hasn't articulated them to Neal. If he offers, she won't turn him down, but she's not going to ask. Let him choose the level of depravity, here.

The unspoken "If I wanted you to" undermines the chivalry of his gestures at every turn. It gives June a frisson when she thinks of it, sometimes a pleasant one, sometimes not. She's lived the line between mistress and whore, and it's never a comfortable one, no matter how charming the man or how jovial his companions. She couldn't push someone else across it in good conscience, though sometimes she thinks of it. It's enough to ask him to escort her in places like this, and to hell with what everyone there assumes.

"Ah, June, how good to see you," says a familiar voice. Georgette, in magenta satin a bit too tight. "How are you?"

Neal stands to greet the lady, and so does June, kissing her cheek. "Hello, dear. I'm so glad we ran into each other."

"Oh?" Georgette smiles. "What have I forgotten now?" She pats her steel-gray curls. "I bought one of those PDA things the other month to keep track of all my appointments, but do you know, I've lost the darn thing."

June laughs dutifully. "There's a benefit in three weeks for Somalian orphans. I was wondering if you were available."

Georgette blinks. "I have no idea, but I'll give you a call when I know. You'll be there?"

"Of course."

Georgette smiles at Neal. "And will you?"

"If you're going, I wouldn't miss it for the world," he says, putting every ounce of charm he has into it as though he needs a new patron already.

Georgette laughs and pats June's arm. "You'd better look after him," she stage-whispers. "Someone might steal him away."

"I'm sure Neal can look after himself," June says, and winks. "And everyone else, too."

"I hope so. Three weeks, you said?"

June nods. "Saturday night."

"If you haven't heard from me in a week, do call me up." Georgette glances over her shoulder. "I should get back to my son shortly; he lost his manners in the divorce, and I can't have him flirting with the waitresses."

"I'll see you there, I hope," June says, and waves as she turns to go.

"Her son?" Neal asks.

June takes her seat and gives him a wry look. "Some of us don't spend all of our days chasing after young things."

Neal shakes his head. "Why chase when you've got one?"

"There is that," June says, and sips her wine. She's tempted to reach over and take his hand, but she doesn't have a gaudy ring for him and never will. If he wants to be affectionate, he can lead.

She sets her glass down a fraction closer to his than is strictly necessary and leaves her hand on the table to see what he'll do.


End file.
